


i think i love you but i make no sound

by iwillbeyourgoal



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:59:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillbeyourgoal/pseuds/iwillbeyourgoal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis looks over at Harry, who’s smiling and clapping and his cheeks are flushed and sometimes Louis thinks his life would be a lot easier if this stupid boy wasn’t so beautiful. (or, the boys go to a karaoke bar on their night off)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i think i love you but i make no sound

**Author's Note:**

> this idea came to me in a fever dream after falling asleep to louis' cover of "look after you", which you should listen to if you haven't already!!

Zayn’s the one who suggests going to a karaoke bars on one of their nights off. They’ve had sort of a rough week, the normal edge of touring sharpened by a lack of sleep and a general desire to go back home.

So while they’re in their hotel room (Liam with his head on Niall’s stomach, Harry sitting between Louis’ legs letting him play with his curls, Zayn lying on the bed with his head off the side) poring over what the city had to offer, Zayn perks up. “Let’s do karaoke,” he says, beaming.

Niall chuckles which prompts a “hey!” from Liam, whose head bobs up and down with the Irish boy’s laughter.

“We get paid to sing, mate, why would we want to do it on our off night?” Niall points out.

“We could go to the zoo,” Liam suggests. “See the giraffes.”

“I like the monkeys,” observes Niall.

“The zoo’s not even open, Li,” Harry says fondly as he scooted out from between Louis’ legs, which prompted a whine from the older boy, to turn and look at the others. “And I like the karaoke idea. We should do it.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees (because he’s fucking wired to go along with anything this dumb boy says—Harry says _jump_ , Louis says _how high?_ ) and pulls him back so Harry’s head rests in his lap. “I agree with Haz. It’ll be fun.”

Zayn laughs. “Of course you agree with him, mate. You two are, like, conjoined at the dick.”

“Oi!” Louis exclaims, blushing while Harry laughs and Niall makes retching noises into the trashcan by the bed.

They’re all laughing, and Louis is too, but he wonders if they’re really that obvious? He’s not exactly the master of hiding emotions, but he’s been doing his best, and it’s difficult when you’re around the same people all day every day even if you do love them with all of your heart and part of your lungs and stomach too, probably.

“So karaoke?” Liam says loudly over them, and Louis notes that magazines really do get it right when they label him ‘the responsible one’.

“Yeah!” Harry bounces up and down on the mattress, shaking them all. “I call dibs on ‘I Want It That Way’.”

A chorus of exaggerated _dammit_ ’s and _nooooo_ ’s follow, and, giggling, he pulls them into a sort of pile on the bed, and they’re with each other and they’re happy.

 

They head out around 9 and thankfully there are only few dozen fans outside the hotel, because Louis really isn’t in the mood to sign a hundred autographs and laugh at the same worn out jokes over and over, and he can feel from the others that they aren’t up for it either.

They do stop and talk to the fans for ten minutes, though, because Paul is with them to make sure things don’t get too crazy, and sometimes meeting them can be fun. Sometimes.

This group of girls is polite enough, not shoving or screaming to get nearer to the band, and the boys smile and wave as they get into their limo, even though they swore they didn’t need one to go five blocks.

“Fame, man,” Niall says, waving out the window as the limo pulled away.

“Yeah. Wonder how it feels,” Harry deadpans. They say it in every interview, but Louis feels they really can’t stress enough how strange it is that so many people suddenly love five normal if not really fucking weird boys when they didn’t even know each other two years ago.

“Hey Haz,” he says. “Remember when we were at the same The Script concert and didn’t even know it?”

“I do!” Niall pipes up and Louis rolls his eyes and throws an empty water bottle at him.

“Yeah,” Harry says fondly. “I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to be in a boy band with someone in this crowd.’ But I thought it was gonna be the guy in front of me with the pink mohawk and a seahorse tattoo on his arm.”

“That was me in my younger days,” Louis nods. “I’ve sobered up since.”

“That’s so weird that you two were in the same place, though,” Liam says from beside Zayn. “It’s like, fate. Like you were always meant to be best friends.”

Louis has to fight to keep the biggest, most idiotic smile off his face as he glances at Harry. “Yeah,” he says.

They get to the bar, which is called The Jupiter and is a seedy hole-in-the-wall deal next to what looks like a closed-down bakery and a tattoo parlor. Immediately Louis loves the feel of the place—he’s tired of all the fancy hotels and venues. They’re told to be home by 1, but they know the rule won’t be enforced, and if they get in trouble they can just sic Liam’s sad eyes on whoever’s yelling at them.

No one bats an eye as they enter, which is also nice, Louis thinks—not being recognized for once. Everyone in the bar is in their 20’s, too old to care about five British boys who sing bubblegum pop. It’s awesome.

They all crowd around a little table, except for Zayn, who immediately starts chatting up some pretty blonde a couple tables over. Harry pulls a chair close to him and pats it, smiling as he looks up at Louis. Louis obliges, sits down because he could never ever say no to Harry (and he would have sat next to him anyway).

“So how have you been, kitten,” Louis says with a smirk. It’s their little joke, checking up on the other when they spend 23 hours a day together.

“Oh, you know. Alright,” Harry says seriously. “Really getting tired of these pricks I’ve been traveling with, though.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Tell me about it. That curly one? What’s with the way he says the word ‘us’?”

That earns him a shove and he almost falls out of his chair, and he would be angry if Harry wasn’t so fucking lovely _all the time_.

He says as much. “You’re really cute. Why are you so—” The interruption is Zayn at the microphone with the blonde girl, who’s smiling shyly.

“My name’s Zayn and this is Ally, and we’re singing ‘Somebody That I Used to Know’,” he says, and the boys whoop and clap for them as the xylophone or whatever the fuck it is starts up.

Louis can barely hear the song with how hard he’s laughing because Zayn is taking this _so seriously_. He’s pouting into the mic as he sings and basically eye-fucking the Ally girl, and Louis isn’t sure when the last time he had this much fun was. He looks over at Harry, who’s smiling and clapping and his cheeks are flushed and sometimes Louis thinks his life would be a lot easier if this stupid boy wasn’t so beautiful.

But then he settles on cutting his losses and dealing with the fact that he’s probably gonna be stuck with this curly idiot for the foreseeable future.

The night passes with drinks and song after song and Louis is laughing and suddenly Harry’s mouth is next to his ear and whispering, “You should sing, Lou.”

He gasps a little bit but looks at Harry’s face, so close to his, and smiles a small smile. “’s a funny joke, Haz.”

 Taking the chair opposite Louis, he scoots closer and nuzzles his neck into Louis’ neck. “Not a joke,” he says, voice muffled. “I like your voice.”

Louis hesitates, starts to make some excuse as to why he can’t go up there, but Harry looks up at him from his shoulder and says, “Please?” and Louis knows he’s fucked.

“One day someone’s gonna rob you,” he says as he stands up, “and you’re gonna nicely ask them not to, and you’re gonna get shot in the face.”

Harry gasps. “Not in the face! That’s where the money is!”

“Fine. The leg, then,” Louis says over his shoulder as he heads to look through the booklet of songs.

He waits in line for a bit, makes small talk with the girl ahead of him but stops when he sees Harry ripping up his napkin into little pieces while he stares at them. He ignores how a sort of pride swells in him when Harry is jealous and gives the boy a little two-fingered wave that simultaneously says _don’t worry_ and _in case you’ve forgotten, I’m the most adorable thing in the cosmos_. (He hasn’t forgotten.)

Louis flips through the laminated pages and laughs quietly to himself as he wonders if Harry would appreciate his no doubt timeless rendition of “My Heart Will Go On”. It kills at weddings when everyone’s really drunk.

He’s scanning the list of artists, from Dixie Chicks to Elton John to— _oh_. Oh. He knows what he’s doing. Yeah, he definitely knows—and it makes him even more nervous, because there’s no way he’ll let himself fuck this one up.

The line of three people in front of him seems like the sum of every line at Disney World and Wal-Mart on Black Friday. He wonders if his twenty-first birthday has passed before it’s his turn, and he would feel bad about not paying attention to anyone else’s performances if his stomach wasn’t tying itself in knots.

As he punches the number for the song in the machine’s queue, he suddenly notices how weak his knees are and he’s honestly really not one for stage fright but this is different, this is close and intimate and, fuck, Harry is smiling at him like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, and—

“Hi,“ he’s saying into the mic that was shoved into his hand by the girl before him, “I’m, er, Louis—”

“Hi Er Louis,” he hears Niall drone from the crowd, and he snorts, which, while it’s not the most attractive sound he’s ever made, makes him feel better.

“That’s my friend Niall, who’s married to food like nuns are to Jesus, so don’t get your hopes up, ladies,” he jokes, and people actually _laugh_ , and maybe he can do this.

“Right. Uhm. I’m singing…” Trailing off, he looks for Harry, who’s giving him a huge smile and thumbs up, and he breathes and continues. “I’m singing ‘Look After You’ by the Fray. Enjoy, I guess.”

He screws his eyes shut and breathes as the opening notes start, and when he opens them he doesn’t dare look at Harry, all big eyes and awe watching him sing, because let’s be real there’s no unringing the ‘unintentional boner’ bell once it’s tolled.

The words are on a mounted TV screen, and he’s only looking at them for something to do—he could sing this song backwards in his sleep.

Clenching the mic, he takes a deep breath, steadies himself, and sings as the words light up on the screen.

_If I don’t say this now, I will surely break_

_As I’m leaving the one I want to take_

He’s surprised at how clear his voice is considering he hadn’t warmed up at all, and maybe he read one too many blog posts commenting on his weak vocals, but tonight—tonight he sounds strong. His confidence grows as he enters the chorus and plays with the ebb and flow of the notes.

_Woah oh, woah oh, be my baby_

_And I’ll look after you_

Performing live is something Louis honestly does love, and he counts himself among the luckiest men on earth to do it with his four best friends—the money is just something that comes with it.

As the song progresses he gets more into it, leaning into the microphone and closing his eyes as he sings. The Fray is one of his favorite bands, and this is one of his favorite songs, and he’s singing it for one of his favorite people.

Towards the end of the song, though, he finds it harder and harder to keep his eyes shut, and when he reaches the verse before the last chorus, he opens them. The lights shining down at the karaoke area flood his vision for a few seconds, but the splinters of light lessen as he searches for and finds Harry as he sings.

_It’s always have and never hold_

_You began to feel like home_

_What’s mine is yours to leave or take_

_What’s mine is yours to make your own_

He—he’s not sure if it’s the lighting or the fact that his vision is still recovering but it looks like Harry’s eyes are wet. His heart stutters in his chest and he can’t seem to stop maintaining eye contact with the boy as the song winds down. As the last note fades, he clears his throat and nods his thanks to the crowd, smiling as he joins the boys.

Niall thumps him on the back as he sits down, and Liam says, “You did good, mate.”

“Of course he did,” Harry says, beaming at Louis like he’s the person who came up with, like, pizza-flavored ice cream or something.

They stay for a few more songs, but the feeling in the atmosphere is one of done-ness (if that wasn’t a word Louis was going to make it one) and they agree on leaving after they laughed too hard at someone performing “Creep” because it reminded them of Wagner.

Liam thanks the bartender on behalf of all of them and Zayn makes his last farewells to Alice or Alison or whatever the girl’s name was. They phone Paul to send a van to pick them up, and while they wait outside Harry tugs on Louis’ sleeve.

He turns to face the boy and is frankly awestruck at how well ‘flushed and windy’ looks on him, it’s really not quite fair.

“You did great,” Harry smiles softly, rapping his knuckles on Louis’ shoulder. “Knew you would, though.”

Louis laughs, but it falls short of his usual loud cackle. “Always the faithful one, you are.”

“So did you mean it like I think you meant it?” Harry asks suddenly, and it’s. Wow. Admittedly, subtlety hadn’t ever been Harry’s way of going about things, but, like. Okay.

“Well, how—how do you think I meant it?”

Harry cocks his head and smiles knowingly, and fuck if Louis thought he could pull anything over his _best friend’s_ head.

He sighs. “Yeah, I reckon I did.”

“Good!” Harry says and kisses him, quick, as the car pulls up and if Liam or Zayn or Niall have noticed them they haven’t said anything, and _God bless them_ , Louis thinks in a daze as Harry laughs and pulls him along into the car. They sit next to each other and they lock pinkies, and it feels different, but it’s really not at all.

He’s glad they didn’t go to the zoo.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to katie for being my louis and setting aside her hatred of WIPs to read this for me. luv u gurl.


End file.
